Bluejay
by Oddery
Summary: Miroku leaves camp one evening, feeling blue, to have some alone time. Sango finds him and comforts him. Bad summary. Good story. Slight lemon. Sango/Miroku. Enjoy, and please review. ONESHOT.


Hey, guys

_Hey, guys! I'm sorry I've been taking so long to update __Duck__, but I promise you I'm working on it! And it'll be the longest chapter yet! After that, there's only two chapters left and I have them all planned out... Well... In my head at least..._

_But to hold you off until then, I'm going to be writing a few one-shots that just so happen to pop into my head. I've been writing them down in my notebooks at school, so they're not distracting me from __Duck__._

_Anyway, I thought this one up. It's pretty short, so don't get too excited. But it's very sweet. _

_Sango-Miroku._

_**Blue Jay**_

_By Oddery_

DISCLAIMER: I'll own Inuyasha when I am impervious to PMS.

--

Miroku sat by the fire, unable to calm his mind for sleep to claim him. He closed his eyes.

He was scared to death. When that mantis had further widened his Wind Tunnel so long ago, he didn't think he had much time to live. He hadn't wanted to involve his friends. He sighed sadly; these were the only true friends he'd ever known, and he would rather die than risk any of their lives. He looked around the camp set up for the evening: at Kagome, sleeping peacefully with Shippo in her arms, both smiling; at Inuyasha, sleeping in a tree, a scowl on his face. He finally looked at Sango, the woman of his dreams. She slept near Kirara, the cat demon's tail wrapped around her to keep her warm.

When Miroku first glanced at Sango, he'd known that she was destined for him. Sure, he played jokes: he rubbed her butt and made suggestive comments, but it was all for fun. He loved Sango, and he always would. Forever.

Only... Miroku didn't know how long "forever" would be...

He sighed and got up from his spot around the campfire. Sorrow was settling within him again. He didn't want to be around his friends when he felt like that.

He went for a stroll around the forest; his bronze staff beside him, the rings around it occasionally jingling. He got to a clearing and sat down beneath a tree. He looked up at the moon.

He didn't know how long he had to live now... They had been so close to defeating Naraku, only for him to escape at the right moment. Miroku clenched his right fist and put it to his forehead. It was moments like these that he wished he'd never been born. He wished that he didn't have the cursed hand. He wished he was some other man, someone other than "_Miroku_", someone who lived in a distant village, whose life was untroubled. He wished that he had a family, a dozen beautiful children and a lovely wife.

_Wife. Sango._

Throwing his staff to the ground, he put his hands to his face and wept. Why couldn't he have the life he wanted? Why did he not deserve a loving wife to wake up next to every morning? She would be a wife that he would be so faithful to. One that he would make love to; gently, sweetly. He would whisper tender nonsense into her ear afterward; something that would make her giggle and make her crinkle her nose that way he liked. He kept thinking of Sango as he thought of this, of her. He thought how her fingers would rake through his hair as he kissed her passionately. He thought of pulling her to him, pressing her body against his in a loving embrace. He thought of how he would quietly say that he loved her over and over into her sweet smelling hair.

He did not expect the hand that he felt on is shoulder, so he jumped so much that he fell over onto his back. Sitting near where he had been, was Sango. She had a worried expression on her face, her hand still reached out to him.

"Are you... alright, Miroku?" She asked. He felt his face grow hot under her russet gaze.

He nodded, wiping the wetness off his face, "Yes, Sango. I'm alright, go back to camp. I'll meet you there."

Suddenly, she glared at him, "You are most certainly not alright," She took his head to her chest, "I'm your friend, Miroku. I'm always here for you."

He felt the emotion rise within his throat again and he pressed his forehead into her shoulder, lamenting. He wept quietly into her loving embrace, his face pressed slightly to her breast. She said quiet things to him, to console him.

"Miroku," she said softly, shifting his head so that he could hear her, "please tell me what's wrong." She took the tie out of the hair at the base of his neck and raked her fingers through it. She smiled sadly at the dirty feel of it; he'd been working so hard lately, pushing himself. A bath was probably the last thing on his mind.

Miroku sighed as he lifted his head, "I," he swallowed, as his voice sounded rough, "I am scared, Sango." She understood what he meant as he sat back away from her and glanced at his cursed hand. She nodded for him to go on.

He cleared his throat again, "Every time we come to face Naraku, I hope for it to be the last time." He looked up at the moon, "When we fought him a few days ago, we were so close. We almost had him. I am so tired of these near misses."

Sango took his hand, "I know how you feel. I'm tired of them, too."

He went on, "I am afraid because the hole in the Wind Tunnel has gotten bigger. Even more so after the battle with that mantis I had a time ago."

Sango put her other hand to her mouth, "Why haven't you told us?"

He looked at her with heavy emotion, his voice shaky again, "I didn't want to worry you all."

She threw her arms around him, "Oh, Miroku!"

He held onto her tightly, the emotion coming out of him again. The tears fell onto his face; he closed his eyes, "Sango... Sango look at me." She pulled away slightly and touched his cheek. Her fingers traced his eyebrows and eyelids, his forehead and cheeks, his ears and neck, and then she touched his lips.

Miroku stared at her all the while she did this. He parted his lips as she traced over them, her cool fingertips stimulating every nerve she touched. He loved the innocent, childlike look in her wide eyes.

He took his un-clothed hand and ran it through her hair. He found he loved the softness of it; it had always looked so to him. He was glad he finally had the opportunity to test his assumption. Sango's hands had fallen to his chest and she still looked at him with her wide eyes. She knew he would kiss her, or try to. She also knew that she would let him. What he said next surprised her, though.

"Sango... May I... May I kiss you?"

Unable to form a coherent sentence, Miroku took that as her consent and he lowered his head to her lips.

She... was warm. She was sweet, she was gentle, and she was... an incredible kisser. His eyes were closed but his eyebrows lifted as she took his face in her hands and kissed him with urgency. Miroku was most happy to oblige her aim.

They continued to kiss as they lowered themselves to the ground. Sango's fingers once again tangled in his hair, he murmured softly into her mouth as she pulled his tresses and massaged his scalp. He pulled away from her, both of them breathless.

Once they calmed down, Sango stared up at him and said, in a whisper, "Please-Please, don't stop, Miroku."

He barely heard her and once he understood he looked at her with large eyes. He was both touched and scared. She wanted to bear his child. She was scared for him and she was willing to do this for him.

"Sango, I-I... can't. I don't want to put that kind of stress on you. That would hurt you and our child, if we were to conceive one tonight."

They both sat up partially. Sango grabbed his face and made him look at her, "Miroku, we can make this work. I must confess: I did have a feeling that you were going through something like this, so I talked to Kagome about what I was thinking about doing. She told me the safest place for me to be if I was pregnant was in her time. There, they have special medicines and treatments for expecting mothers so that the baby will be born healthy.

"We snuck off one day to see if I could get through the well. And Miroku - Miroku, look at me-" She made him make eye contact with her, "I can get through. _I can_. All I need to do is hold onto Kagome. Though, Kagome thought it would be best to keep at least one jewel shard over there with me, to have just in case... just in case you all are defeated. That way the jewel would never be whole for Naraku..." Her voice choked up slightly at the thought, but she continued, "Kagome's mother is very kind, I met her briefly, and she said she would love to take care of me. Her family is so kind, Miroku. I'll be safe there."

Miroku looked at her for a long moment, and then he embraced her, "But I will miss you."

She smiled and hugged him back, "Kagome said you were welcome to visit anytime you wanted. And I expect you to be in one piece when I see you."

He laughed softly, "I'll do my best, Sango. I'll promise you that much." He looked at her, pulling away slightly, "I want you to know... No matter what happens to me when I battle Naraku, that I've... I've been in love with you since I first saw you." Sango's eyes glistened as he went on, "When I saw you battling Inuyasha, I remember thinking that I'd never seen a woman so beautiful, so determined... so strong. I promised myself long ago if I ever met a woman like that, I would give my whole heart to her. And that woman is you."

Sango looked at Miroku as he gently stroked her cheek with the back of his hand, his fingernails tickling her soft skin. Sango touched his chest, "Miroku... I'm in love with you, too."

Under his breath, Miroku said, "Oh..."

And then he kissed her.

They were back on the ground, their hands exploring their clothed flesh. They were impatient with the clothes: jerking them every which way, kissing whatever their eager efforts rewarded them. When Miroku's chest was exposed to Sango's eyes, she shyly ran her palms over his heated skin. He sighed and closed his eyes, pressing himself against her. "Sango," he whispered, "Oh, Sango... I want to see you... All of you." He felt her nod and he sighed again into her chest. He buried his face into the middle of her chest, happy with the incentive that was soon to be made known to his vision. He let her stand up and he sat on the ground beneath her, letting her undress.

She stood before him, nude, in the moonlight. Her brown-black hair and softly tanned skin illuminated. She was a goddess. She was unlike any woman he'd ever seen before: innocent and fierce, sweet and intense, gentle and terrifying. She walked toward him and he kneeled before her. She ran her fingers into his bangs, petting his face and hair. Miroku closed his eyes and kissed her womb. He loved how the warmth felt against his lips. He cupped her buttocks and she gasped. He grinned against her and then looked up into her face.

"Are you ready?" He asked her.

Sango thought that she'd never seen a man so beautiful and honest; she had never seen a man look the way Miroku did at her. She loved the way his deep blue eyes looked in the moonlight: he looked so true, so open, so naked. She nodded at him. He shed the rest of his clothing.

--

He was gentle as he made love to her. He never looked away from her and he avoided closing his eyes to look into her face. He was sitting beneath her, giving her control. He sat cross-legged and his arms were clasped tightly behind her back, just above her bottom. He found that he liked the feel of her hips moving on him, the muscles working beneath the skin. He found he liked her hands grabbing at the back of his neck, shoulders, and hair. But above all, he liked the feel of them together, as one. He liked how he could feel how she felt. He loved how he could see through her eyes as well as his own. It was as if they'd become some sort of two minded creature, but in one body.

He could tell she was becoming tired, so he laid her gently on the ground. She gasped as the cool, dewy grass made contact with her hot, sweaty back. Miroku kissed her. He kissed her again and again and again, unable to quench his thirst for her. He wanted more. He was close. They were both close.

Sango had never felt anything like it. Her knees were bent and her toes dug into the wet grass as it overcame her. It filled her very soul. Her eyes widened, her back arched, and her fingers buried themselves into her lover's back. She gasped his name over and over. The cloth from his cursed hand tickled her ribcage as it came to grasp her breast, adding to the incredible feeling of her climax. The hand squeezed her there as his completion reached him, and she watched his handsome face twist into one of amazing pleasure. He cried out and her eyes widened as he roared her name into the night: up toward the moon, to the trees, and whatever creatures were witnessing such a coupling.

As they came down from both their highs, they embraced each other. Trembling, sobbing, aching, kissing. They whispered their feelings for one another over and over until they fell asleep.

They stayed like that for hours. It was the happiest they'd been in years. They didn't even notice the sun rising or the hanyou and teenage girl quickly walking away, crimson dusting their cheeks.

--

_My first "lemon", if you can call it that... I wanted it to be tasteful, a little Nicholas Sparks-y, you know? But still graphic enough to separate myself from him._

_Anyway. I hope you liked it. I hope it wasn't too sad._

_Wishing you well,_

_Oddery_


End file.
